


Watermelon Sugar High

by SunSalutations



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunSalutations/pseuds/SunSalutations
Summary: Coffeeshop AU: Geralt is a barista who prefers everything black and Jaskier does not agree with that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Watermelon Sugar High

Geralt has little patience. Which is - if you think of it - not the best quality for someone working at a coffeeshop and dealing with customers almost every day. He keeps everything to himself, though; every tiny piece of displeasure is usually swallowed by the desire not to step into a mess called human interaction.

Not that people wanted to interact with him either.

He looks a bit terrifying, with his silence and dark glances from behind the counter, when he is quietly assessing the person in front of him. Black clothes don’t help the case too, making Triss let out harmless comments when she comes over for her late night shift.

"You could let some colour into your life, Geralt" she says, suggesting wearing something other than black jeans and t-shirts, and probably something other than lonely brooding by himself. "Though that leather jacket is extremely…"

"I don’t need that", he glances at her from the sink where he was washing spoons and plates, tucking a strand of silver hair that got out of carefully made up bun back behind his ear with his wrist. "Whatever you’re implying."

Triss seems not impressed. "There’s a destiny for everyone, mister I-Am-Fine."

Geralt sighs, annoyed, and thinks that it _might_ be good if Triss is right just this one time. The growing loneliness in his chest is sometimes too heavy (not that he complains to anyone about it) and he wishes there is someone who can sweep it out there.

But he doubts it.

It’s a cool evening when his shift is almost over and he waits for Triss to change and switch with him. Most of the days they work together, if her schedule allows it, but sometimes Triss only comes after her voluntary job at a crisis response center for women.

Today is a rather calm day - not including the crowd of teenagers flooding the place during their lunch break - and Geralt is pleased with that, because he cleaned everything he needed and even read a little, passing the time between cappuccinos and flat whites.

"Hey Geralt, have you seen my apron?" shouts Triss from the back kitchen, "Can’t find it anywhere!"

"I put it onto the shelf next to the teapots", he answers, when there’s a _ding!ding!_ of the door bell and rushed shuffling behind him:

"Um hello, can you take my order please, I’m kinda in a hurry and I just need…"

Geralt turns around to see a tall young man with eyes of the brightest shade of blue he has ever seen. The bags under his eyes make them stand out even more.

"Oh wow. Wowie. Umm. You’re _gorgeous_. Hello?" the man is staring at him with an expression Geralt is not able to decipher. Surprise?

"You wanted….?"

"Coffee. Yeah. Caramel macchiato with extra mint syrup?"

Geralt scowls at that order. This guy is definitely a maniac. Who on earth drinks that much sugar?

"Anything else?"

"No, not really, you see, I don’t have much time to eat to be honest", the Sugar Maniac explains, the cheeks redden a little.

Geralt turns his back to him, taking the cup from the counter closer to the wall and demonstrating his tight black leather pants, when he hears:

"Those buns though…"

"Pardon?" Geralt raises an eyebrow.

"Your buns are awesome! OH. Not _your_ buns! The buns on the counter, with chocolate and strawberries, I tried them a couple of weeks ago, tasted good, although I’m pretty sure _yours_ are good too because you look like you hit the gym a lot and I speak too much, I’m Jaskier by the way," - the man tries to wiggle out of this situation by not dying with embarrassment but, Gods know, he is not succeeding.

"Hm." Geralt shoots the customer, what he hopes is, a dead glare.

"What’s your name?" the man tilts his head, completely ignoring the look Geralt gives him.

Geralt begins to cook the sweet absurd of a drink with unprecedented zeal, trying to ignore the visitor. This type of people do not back off - his intuition tells him.

Triss, wearing an apron, steps behind the counter and answers:

"Geralt. He is not very talkative."

"Geralt? What kind of name is that?" Jaskier asks, cheekiness in his voice.

"Your name’s Jaskier." Geralt answers flatly, scribbling something onto the cup in his hand.

"Yeah well I’m quite a colourful persona, don’t you think?" Jaskier exclaims, spreading his arms and showing off a jacket with a sunny yellow backing underneath.

Geralt silently continues his work, while Triss is chatting to Jaskier who doesn’t seem to lose interest, throwing quick glances to Geralt’s side. Geralt adds the mint syrup, closes the cup and says:

"Here’s your coffee."

"Thanks! See you around?" Jaskier puts the money on the counter.

"Unlikely."

Jaskier’s eyebrow raises in mischievous way but then he shifts his gaze, noticing the watches on the opposite wall and rushes through the door, trying not to spill his coffee and get to the damn lecture on time otherwise the professor will take out his points for attendance. But, it’s more likely that Jaskier was already below zero points considering how many times he was late for this class. The professor often says that Mozart would probably kill him if Jaskier was his student.

(He wouldn’t though. Amadeus was quite a rock star rebel).

"Did you write his name on the cup? You never write names," Triss’ voice sounds amused.

"I didn’t."

"Sure. He left us a flyer of a concert he’s taking part in, by the way. Wanna come?"

"Do you know him?" Geralt asks, simultaneously deciding that **_no_** is the only right answer to her question.

"Not really. I know that he plays guitar. Comes here sometimes. Eats _the buns_ " _,_ she shoots back, smug look on her face. Geralt only rolls his eyes.

Jaskier sips his coffee and notices black letters covering the cup.

"Who the **hell** is Sugar Maniac?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! As a non-native speaker, I'm *slightly* concerned about the language, so if you notice any mistakes, please leave a comment. I appreciate that :)


End file.
